


Beauregard Lionett vs Mollymauk Tealeaf, Party Clown

by madelinescribbles



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Alternate Timelines, Gen, Little Beauregard Lionett Home Alones Mollymauk Tealeaf, Yasha mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinescribbles/pseuds/madelinescribbles
Summary: A universe where time lined up differently. The Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities are hired to perform at Beauregard Lionett's 6th Birthday Celebration. Beau decides the tarot card reader needs to suffer, but Molly is hard to get rid of.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Mollymauk Tealeaf
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Beauregard Lionett vs Mollymauk Tealeaf, Party Clown

**Author's Note:**

> Old unfinished AU snippet I dug up and polished in honor of Molly's empty grave. Enjoy!

The child is a dick. 

That’s a rather nasty thing to say about a child. Mollymauk would feel bad about it, except he’s still got two tacks in his foot, half his braid is burnt off, and the only outfit he’s ever owned is soaked through with an entire cask of 60-year-aged Pinot Noir that he couldn’t afford if he held the King for ransom. 

As a rule of thumb, Mollymauk does not hate people, but this child has managed hatred-adjacent. She’s a real thorn. If she was old enough to drink her own family’s stock, he probably would have called her a few words stronger than “dick” very publicly.

The wine is still running steadily along the seams of the cobblestone. He sighs and scoops as much of it as he can into his personal wineskin before it completely seeps into the stonework. Takes a couple licks off the floor, too, because he can.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The little human’s voice says from above. He turns his gaze upward without removing his tongue from the ground.

She’s in the rafters, limbs pushed out to hold herself steady in the corner with force rather than the balanced poise of tightrope walkers Mollymauk is used to. The bottom of her dress is bunched into a knot at her waist, revealing a set of peasant culottes underneath. Her long hair is tied up in an old rag that she’s fashioned as a bandana, though half of it is in strands around her face. There’s mud smeared on her cheeks to look like war paint. She looks positively feral.

“It’s a nice vintage,” Mollymauk says, standing up from the floor and licking his sticky palm for good measure. “You trying to get the crownsguard to do the dirty work, then? Have them arrest me for the barrel instead of driving me out yourself?”

“Don’t be such a baby,” the child rolls her eyes. For a moment she looks like she’s about to slip from her spread-eagle in the corner, but tenses herself even further and tries to play it off. “You’re a fast-talker enough to keep the guard out of it.” She sneers.

She’s right. He hadn’t realized the kid had noticed him use his Devil’s Tongue on her father earlier, and that’s a bit unnerving.

“He’s gonna blame me for it either way.” She mutters, definitely not meant for him.

Mollymauk raises an eyebrow; he doesn’t like the sound of that. 

“So you just wanted to ruin my clothes?” he says, deciding to beat around the bush a bit, “The tacks were creative, and torching my hair almost did it, but this seems like a weak finale.”

The little human scoffs and blows a strand of hair from her face.

“Maybe not everything I do revolves around you,” she says, tensing her arms one more time to shove off the wall and shakily grab another beam above her. “And who said this was the finale? We’ve got all fuckin’ day, circus freak.”

With that she swings her heel up to the beam and kicks off, vanishing into a small hole in the ceiling.

Molly sighs and flips what remains of his hair in front of his face, wringing some wine out of it into his mouth.

“Yasha, darling!” he calls, already peeling off his shirt to wring that too as he climbs the stairs. “Remember how you love me very much and owe me a life debt?”

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on tumblr: [**@okiedokeTM**](https://okiedoketm.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If you liked this, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and let me know if people want more!


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